Kill Harry
by Mat Glue
Summary: Have you ever wondered how Voldemort felt about the whole prophecy ordeal? But then, you might ask if he can feel anything at all. Behind the scenes, the murder of the Boy Who Lived is being plotted… again. Voldermort will kill Harry.
1. The First Attempt

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Kill Harry

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Have you ever wondered how Voldemort felt about the whole prophecy ordeal? But then, you might ask if he can feel at all. Behind the scenes: the murder of the Boy Who Lived is plotted… again.

_Prologue_: The First attempt.

The wind picked up that October night. The old barricade that had been set up long ago creaked endlessly as the dirt and dead leaves flew in the midnight air. A battered lamppost cast a ghostly light over the abandoned wasteland; trash littered the wilderness that had claimed the property as their own.

But then, who would want this bit of land for their own? The neighbourhood was not recommended as friendly either, plus, after the previous year's floods, there was now way you could construct anything with walls on it…

There came muffled squeak from the darkness, the rustling of claws against a metal pipe.

It was not any ordinary rat… No, this one was rather plump, and stupid. Owls are always lurking at this time of night, searching for a late supper, and unknown to this rodent, he had just become potential prey.

Peter Pettigrew paused, only inches from the circle of light the lamppost offered, the whiskers on his little nose trembling as he sniffed the air. When he lifted his head, trying to make out some movement in the darkness that surrounded the place, two small sharp teeth gleamed slightly.

Darkness picked him up by the tail. The rat squealed shrilling, wiggling and trashing as much as he could, trying desperately to escape the horrible fate of death.

Something hissed in the night. '_Stop twitching, it's me_- OUCH! You Rotten rat!'

Peter fell with another squeak on his back onto the hard pavement, his paws raised in the most primal defensive manner, his small black beady eyes clenched shut, feigning death. Realising that he was still alive, after have waited a couple of more seconds for an expected blow, he opened, ever so slightly, one single eye.

Something more darker that the night itself towered over the rat, something more sinister than… more frightening than… The fact is, here stood the most evil of Dark Lords the world had ever encountered, Lord Voldemort.

Seeing the black shiny boot tapping impatiently against the concrete pavement, Peter transformed.

There sat, on his large backside, the human form of Peter Pettigrew. Peter had never been known for his daring, neither his courage, and yet, he'd been marked as a Gryffindor in his early years, bravery was meant to be his largest quality.

But at that moment, all you could see here was the lack of it.

'Master!' he called, grovelling on the ground, his head bowed. 'You came… You…"

'Will you shut up! _Now, give it me._'

Peter, slowly pulled out a small peace of folded parchment out of his ragged coat, his hand trembling like a leaf. His gaze didn't leave the paper as he handed it to his master.

Voldemort snatched the paper from Peter's filthy hands, grasped between two skeleton like fingers.

"_Finally… The time as come._"

Lightning shot through the sky, illuminating the neighbourhood for just a second, spitting out from a large black cloud. More than an omen, it was fate.

Voldemort opened the parchment and read the words: "Godric's Hollow."

The night couldn't have been any darker, the thunder growling across the sky more threatening, and the light spilling out of the large window of the house of the Potters more… pleasant and warm.

Godric's Hollow had appeared out of no where, grown in a second, the walls emerging out from the earth… like magic. A roof had become visible, ivy climbed the red brick wall in sinuous curves. And at the centre, stood an oak door, a 'Welcome' mat set upon the threshold. The wasteland was no where to be seen.

"_Welcome indeed_."

Screams echoed throughout the house, green light emerged from the first floor window…

There would be no witness to the atrocities of that Halloween night… none except a one year old boy, who would not remember the incident for many years to come. That night, Harry Potter became The Boy Who Lived, a scar, shaped like a lightning bolt, drawn across his forehead for everyone to see.

And from that moment on, Voldemort knew he had to kill Harry, whatever the cost.

It's meant to be funny, but turned out over-dramatic. Hmm… However, something important about the scar…

This little piece of fanfiction will be dedicated to the many attempts of Voldemort to kill Harry, (think Kill Bill… I suppose) in imaginative and grotesque ways (my usual dumb sense of humour)! Of course, Harry is more than a resourceful kid, so no one can expect it to be easy for poor Voldie.

Oh well, why don't you Review? Tell me what you think


	2. Blue Sky Before The Storm

Chapter 1: Blue sky before the storm

'_What is it,_' said Voldemort, feeling tremendously murderous. '_What have you brought me now?'_

He sat in the throne chamber, his slit for eyes closed as Peter Pettigrew approached him.

Pettigrew hated the chamber, his skin would prick uncomfortably at each step. Every now and then, tortuous cries wailed, ghost faces appearing for just a second from behind the black glistering walls. Trapped souls swirled just underneath its surface. Clenching his silver fist, he took a big breath.

'My Lord, Pot-Potter… the boy… he has…'

'_Stop stuttering, and spit it out, I don't have all day for your silly rat-self_.'

Peter cowed away, snivelling down to the floor and squeaked something inaudible out.

'_What was that_?'

'Potter survived!' Peter blurted out, still not looking up at his master. This was it, the end. He'd failed Voldemort too many a time, and he was about to feel the Dark Lord's rash. The word 'Crucio' was sure to follow.

'_Potter survives…_' Voldemort repeated in a deadly hiss. His slit red eyes opened, peering down at the squirming form of Pettigrew that had bowed so low his head touched the floor.

'_Wormtail, tell me why I keep you?_' Voldemort asked, rising from his black marble throne, his wizarding robes only ruffling faintly in the stark silence of the chamber.

Peter tried to think quickly, he couldn't afford to look worthless in the eyes of the Dark Lord, his life was more than at stake. 'Because… I have a plan to destroy Potter.' The problem with thinking quickly, you see, is that you tend to say things without rationally pondering their long-term consequences. And Peter had never been a bright wizard for that matter.

Thankfully for him, Voldemort hadn't been listening, too wrapped up in his own dark thoughts. '_What's his dearest desire, Wormtail. Tell me._'

Peter fumble on the floor, slowly getting back up, it seemed safe enough to do so, as Voldemort hadn't uttered any curse yet. But he tried to be careful, just in case.

'Potter… saw in the mirror of Erirsed- his parents. Potter's greatest desire is to have his parents living with him… But, they're already dead." He waited for the Dark Lord's response. 'My Lord killed them when…'

'I know what happened that night!' Voldemort paused after his sudden burst of anger. '_They're long gone and out of reach, and yet, Potter seems to cling to life like a drowning rat would cling to a rusty pipe._'

Peter squirmed; he didn't like the Dark Lord talking about rats like that way. But Pettigrew had to confess he was glad he wasn't asked to prove himself worthy. He didn't really have any plan to kill Potter, he'd never been good at making any sort of pranks in his earlier days… so organising a murder!

'_His godfather, his last parent figure fell through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. Dead also…_'

'He still had his friends… Ron Weasley and the mudblood,' Peter had started summarising all the people that kept Harry Potter alive by merely existing. He had two fingers raised, and was about to put up a third and a fourth by mentioning Dumbledore and the Werewolf Lupin, but unfortunately for him, he was cut short.

Pettigrew withered senselessly on the floor, shrill and yells meeting new heights as he was struck with an Unforgivable Curse. It lasted only a second, but for Peter, it seemed it had gone on for centuries. He lay there, sprawled on the floor, trying, with difficulty to wheeze air in his lungs once more. Blacks spots danced in front of his eyes when he was finally able to open them, squinting once more up at the Dark Lord.

'_You said you had a plan, Wormtail_.'

What did I tell you about thinking too quickly!

Harry sat next to the lake with his friends Ron and Hermione.

Hermione had a book propped on her knees, and was frowning, trying to understand a complicated spell chart, while Ron and Harry were busy skimming pebbles across the mirror like surface of the water.

'Watch this," Ron said, biting his lip in concentration, pulling his arm ready to throw the stone. With a quick thrust, the flat stone was off, bouncing effortless across the lake, large ripples spreading. 'Seven, eight, nine,' Ron said counting the jumps. 'Fifteen! Your tun mate!'

Ron's stone had finally sunken in the water after an amazing number of leaps. 'Accio Pebble!' It shot out from underneath the water, and if not for Harry's quick reflexes, it was about to hit him squarely in the forehead. Ron got back up after he'd been pulled down rather forcefully.

'I you could just charm it to come back normally, so it won't come racing at us like bullets!' Hermione exclaimed, from her place under the tree. 'It's the second time you've done this!'

Ron had refused to use the other charm, not wanting Hermione to see he still hadn't practised the Boomerang one. The only problem was that his own Accio charm had always got the tendency to fly a little too quickly. Harry picked the pebble up from the grass, pushing his glasses higher up on his nose as he did so.

'It could **kill** one of you! But of course, you two just don't seem concerned and…'

Harry readied himself to throw the stone. He had never skimmed before in his life, until today. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had never taken him anywhere with Dudley on their weekend trips. And he would spend weeks during the holidays at Mrs Figg's old smelly house while Dudley had gone to be a scout with some of his friends in Wales.

It was now just the beginning of a new school term at Hogwarts, and it would be the last days of sunshine they would get before a long time. Therefore, Ron, Hermione and Harry had left the Castle to spend most of their time outside. All three had their cloaks on, and Harry was glad he'd listened to Hermione on this one, because mist was currently forming at his every breath, and his ears felt like ice. The sun might be shining, but it gave no heat.

'…shooting stones at us. You just act like this was all normal. Ron, if you have a problem with that charm, why don't you ask me for-Ron! Are you even listening to me?'

Ron's ears were quickly getting redder and redder as he tried to blot out Hermione's lecture on how both of them should be more careful.

Harry threw the stone, not as well as Ron, but it did a couple of satisfying jumps before it went underwater. It soon resurfaced and slowly flew back towards Harry who caught it easily in his hand.

This all seemed normal; the usual daily occurrences for a young wizard attending Hogwarts. However, Harry knew that somewhere out there, someone was plotting his death, and maybe the death of his friends. His parents gone, and Sirius out of the picture, he didn't know if he could manage someone else close to him leaving. Sometimes he just wished…

He wished they could stop bickering for a whole day, for a start. Harry had turned towards Hermione and Ron who was positively fuming. Walking up beside them, he threw the stone to Ron and sat beside Hermione, glancing at her very large book she'd left aside for a moment, her concentration gone.

'Yeah, whatever,' Ron mumbled before aiming the stone at the lake once more.

Hermione's cheeks were pink with the cold and from the shouting. 'Harry, am I really just a bossy- know- it- all?' she asked taking her attention away from Ron, now shifting it to Harry.

A couple of bright coloured autumn leaves glided down from the tree branches above, one getting caught in Hermione's bushy hair. She quickly brushed it off.

Harry didn't know what to tell her. He didn't want to make Hermione angry with him, and at the way she was looking at him, he guessed that she was waiting just for that, her mahogany eyes whispering menacingly 'I dare you to.' Harry coughed uneasily.

'You have your times…' He couldn't suppress a grin as her eyes became round with disbelief. She swapped him playfully on the arm and tried feigning discontent, turning her head away from him. She didn't fool him.

'You look sweet when you're angry,' Harry whispered. Hermione nearly jumped, she hadn't realised he'd etched so close to her, his breath tingling her ear.

And truthfully, she did look sweet. Her hair seemed to have curled even more in the frost air, and the brush of pink on her cheeks made her unmistakably pretty. She'd wrapped herself in more layers than she had really needed to, the thick red and orange Gryffindor scarf wrapped several times around her neck. Unconsciously, Harry's mind was drawn to her lips.

'I'm just worried that…' she was mumbling, very unusual for Hermione. 'After Voldemort's last attempt…'

Harry titled his head slightly, about to…

They were barely able to register Ron saying 'Accio pebble,' before something came shooting towards them from out of the lake.

"Watch out!' he cried in dismay, falling to the ground, avoiding the projectile by an inch.

Harry and Hermione sprung away from each other just in time. The pebble had barely missed them, and had buried itself in the tree trunk with a crisp 'SHUNK'. They both breathed in relief, but their gazes soon turned to a very a brilliant red flushed Ron.

'I'm sorry guys, I didn't mean to… I had it under control. No one's hurt.'

Hermione didn't manage to speak, still in shock, but it would soon be over, and Ron knew what would come next. A whole new lecture, which he'd listen to guiltily, but soon forget after.

'Ron,' Hermione was looking positively angry now, but her eyes softened a little. 'Just let me show you the Boomerang Charm before someone gets hurt.'

While Harry, the flat stone back in his hand, was skimming some more, trying to get to eight jumps; Hermione helped Ron with his charm. The red haired friend was trying his best, for Hermione's sake, but was still failing rather miserably.

'That's better,' Hermione exclaimed on one occasion, but it was soon followed by, 'No, not like that.'

It seemed the Giant Squid was awake, and more large ripples were drawn across the lake's surface. Harry swore he saw something green and slimy produce from the cold waters before disappearing again.

He would glance at Ron and Hermione, and blushed when he found Hermione looking back at him, remembering too well what he'd been about to do before Ron used the Accio charm. And he was glad to see her blush as well, more pink spreading across her cheeks. Harry went back to skimming, his head feeling lighter and his heart at ease.

The next time he threw the round flat pebble, it didn't remerge. Bubbles of air broke at the water's surface, and Harry knew he'd lost the stone for good.

How come someone like the Potter Boy, could still manage to feel happiness? Voldemort pondered this, his fingers, paste white, resting against his temples.

He'd left the Throne Chamber, and now sat at his desk, in his large dark study. The smell of aged parchments and books resided here, and no one, except himself, were aloud to enter it. Nagini was curled around the Dark Lord's wrist, the snake's head cool against his palm.

In front of him, written out on the finest of parchments, were the words:

"The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies."

Why and how could Harry Potter have the power to vanquish him? He'd been saved once by love, at the age of one. But again and again he lived, escaping the traps that should have seen him dead.

But he wouldn't live for long, Voldemort would make sure of it.

On Halloween, like those sixteen years ago, something sinister would be in the air.

Firstly, thanks for the reviews. Second, you might be wondering why Ron and Harry don't have any more pebbles, because well, I suppose that around the lake it's mainly grass, mud and earth. 

Inserted a moment for Harry, Ron and Hermione, a typical trio moment. It answers Voldemort's question.

It's those kind of happy and simple moments that make Harry want to live (even though Ron and Hermione were a little angry, but nothing's perfect).

I'm surprised how easy it's been to write this, and I'm wondering if some bad writing has managed to slip in.


	3. Be Careful What You Wish For

The sixth attempt: "Be careful what you wish for!" _Sounds familiar. _

Part1

Now, what kind of fat chance did he have? Finding a Genie Lamp, here, in Hogwarts? None really. Just while HE was going to Bathroom for a quick pee before the Halloween feast. Well, it was too tempting to let it there, in the middle of the corridor where someone might just see it, and anyone could pick it up. Never know which evil hands could find it, and use it. So Harry decided it was best he take it with him, to the Bathroom.

Unknown to him was the rat that scrutted quickly away after his departure, down the main staircase and out in the grounds, only to transform into Peter Pettigrew in the Forbidden Forest. "PSss, ssh sh, Harry doesn't seem to know the phrase, Curiosity killed the Gargoyle." Well, actually, Harry did know a saying that wait that way, but well, Bless his Soul, Peter didn't know that Harry knew.

Meanwhile, Harry had rubbed the lamp and a red genie was now floating in the Bathroom, with the sweet music of water running in the background.

"Ho Ho ho, I am the Blue Genie," said the red Genie.

"No you're not," said Harry, the lamp still in his hands. "You'r red!"

"Oh, for goodness sake, human, I'm colour-blind! Now, hurry up with your wish!"

"Only one wish?" Harry asked.

"Just the one, anything you like. I'm the almighty Blue Genie!"

"Red."

"Whatever."

Harry thought hard, he had the chance to make one wish, anything he wanted. The possibilities started growing in his mind. Anything. "I want Snape to dance on tables!"

"What?" said the Red - I mean, Blue Genie. This would be harder than he thought. "Not THAT! I've already done it loads, now, don't you have any ambition?"

Harry thought hard. "Ok, mh... I would like something very much, but well, someone might hear and..." A crimson blush coloured his cheeks suddenly. He took off his glasses, and started rubbing the lenses in circles to so call 'clean them off'.

"Tell me so in my ear," said the Blue but actually red Genie. He approached Harry and let the Boy Who Lived whisper in his smoky ear. Harry did so quickly, before turning red tomato. The Genie chuckled. Kiss Hermione Granger? Who would have guessed that bushy hair attracted him?! "I could," the Genie explained. "But well, you don't want to do that. I'm sure you would prefer to have this come naturally...." The Genie looked at Harry thoughtfully, how could he make Harry wish his downfall? Make this Good Soul find death? If he was too stupid to find himself, then he, the Blue Genie would help him.

"Now, what about to have your parents back? Have the massacre at Godric's Hollow never happen."

"I could?" asked Harry expectantly. "I could really make Mum and Dad come back? And Sirius?" Hope was growing in his heart, the warm feeling of glee filling his head with new and exiting pictures of happiness with the people he loved. Yes, he would do that. Luck was finally on his side.

"Then I wish," started Harry, dreams filling his head. "I wish that Voldermort never killed my parents, that Sirius never died."

The Genie frowned in thought as the seconds passed by, Harry still waiting.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Harry, frightened that this was all a fluke. "Are or aren't you a Genie? I want my wish granted!"

"That's technically two wishes, not one. But well, I can make an exception." A sly grin slipped onto his features. "Harry Potter," he said, his red form growing until it filled the whole space of the bathroom menacingly, "Wish granted."

Harry blinked. Once, twice. The Genie had disappeared back into his lamp. Other than that, everything seemed perfectly normal. Yes, perfectly normal. He was still in the bathroom, he could still here the drip-drip of water, and still needed to have a wee. Wouldn't he know, or even feel somewhere inside himself that would tell him that his parents were alive, and so was Sirius? His earlier pressing need forgotten, he left the bathroom after have hidden the lamp in his robes.

It was then that he saw the difference. What he first noticed, marching down the corridor to the staircases was the lack of paintings on the wall. And when he finally arrived to the staircases, it was the green and silver Slytherin banners that hung there that managed to turn his stomach into knots.

"What the bloody hell is this?"

He continued his way down, crossing students clothed in Slytherin robes who he'd never seen. Never did he see any red and orange scarves, or blue Hufflepuff ones. Dark paintings hung on the walls instead, portraits of obscure wizards and places. This was NOT what he had expected.

He had to find Ron, and Hermione, and his parents if they were indeed alive. However, before he got to the Great Hall, he caught his reflection in a nearby mirror. And it struck him hard.

He slowly approached it, having difficulty apprehending what he saw. It couldn't be. His glasses that used to hide his green eyes had disappeared. His hands flew instinctively to his forehead and found no scar. But what worried him the most was the black and green tie that hung around his neck. This couldn't be good.

He scurried away, his head slightly dizzy. Before he was able to go any further, a strong grip caught his arm.

"Harry, finally!" said a tall man, his eyes intent on Harry.

Harry had lost the ability to speak altogether. He couldn't believe his eyes. "I..." he babbled, his mouth trying to make some word of some sort. What should he say? If this was a dream, it was happy one, he was sure of it. He instantly forgot the green banners, the coldness of the air, even the genie. "Dad," Harry finally blurted out, green eyes round.

"Ron is waiting for you to go and see Hogsmeade. You've been talking about it all week. What are you waiting for? And that pretty girl Cho Chang will be there too. You can't miss the opportunity, Son."

"Ron? Cho?"

Before he knew it, Harry was whisked off to the Great Oak doors, cloak on his shoulders, where Ron took the liberty of dragging his friend outside and into the waiting carriages. And as they bobbled away, he watched the form of his father, bathed in the light of the Great hall slowly disappear.

He couldn't believe it! His Dad! Here, alive! Was Lily there too?

"Don't be such a baby, your father will still be there when you get back," snapped Ron. "I've been waiting for you for a half an hour! What kept you, mate?" He watched Harry, finding his friend a little out of character. "What's up with you?"

Harry pulled his gaze away from the retreating castle back to Ron. "Nothing, Ron." A grin quickly slipped onto his features. "I think I've never been so happy."

"Then wait till we get to Hogsmeade!"

Ron and Harry were sitting at a table in a corner, mugs of Butterbear warming their hands up. There was loud talking in the Three Bromsticks that night, and roaring laughter from the other side. Bats would swoop down from the ceiling and over their heads, screaching. Seemed there were more cobwebs than usual too. Ron had eyed the spiders wearily, but had finally decided to dismiss them, trying to look brave and 'conquer his fear'. Harry was glad to have Ron, but something was troubling him.

"Where's Hermione? Is she locked up in the library working again?" asked Harry, missing his bushy brown haired friend.

"Hermy-what?" asked Ron, scratching his head.

"You know, Hermione," Harry repeated, but he suddenly dreaded that Ron actually didn't know who he was speaking about.

"Never heard of this girl before," said Ron. He didn't know her, Harry felt his heart sink. Then he still had to meat her maybe. "Where did you meet her?" asked Ron, a sly grin spreading. "Been cheating on Cho?"

Harry choked on his Butterbear. Cho was his girlfriend? How odd was that! He remembered his first –wet- kiss with her, and the disastrous Valentine date he'd had. The Cherubs and the pink confetti. Harry wondered if she still liked those. Cho? She was a nice, very pretty (he admitted) person, but well... No thank you!

Seeing that Harry didn't really want to talk about it, Ron changed subject. "Heard about the Death Eater attack in London?" Harry missed the small smile.

"Death Eaters in London? What's the Ministry doing?" asked Harry stricken. "When?"

"Oh, come on. Don't look all surprised. I know it's your Dad that organised it!" said Ron, looking almighty pleased with himself to have discovered something that his friend had been hiding from him.

Harry paled. "What do you mean _my Dad_ organised it?" Wheels were turning in his mind fast.

"There was a nest of Rebel Mudbloods in Downing Street. Going to get them cleaned up and ready for the Dementor Camps up North. Said there's a convoy of them passing through Hogsmeade tonight. Want to go and see? Harry, why you're looking at me like that?"

"I'm going to sound a lot like Percy and your parents... What are you saying? You can't be serious. This is a bad joke, Ron. Stop it now." Where had his friend gone? Who was this sitting in front of him?

"Harry, are you feeling ok? My parents died a long time ago. It's not me mentioning Mudblood souls being sucked away that's making you all touchy, is it?"

Before Ron had the time to say anything more, Harry had jumped from his stool at him, bringing his fist up. Ron flew to ground, punched violently by Harry. But before he could get another shot, Harry was pulled away by arms, restraining him back so he wouldn't make anymore harm. "I'll kill you!" Seeing it was no use, Harry shrugged the people away and stormed out into the street.

Harry pulled his cloak closer against the cold. Wind made his curls dance on his head, pricking his cheeks mercilessly as he marched away, feeling his insides curl. Strange music soon came to his ears, like the tinting of bells. He made his way towards it, and found a group of exited students, crowded around a bright cloaked man, standing on a podium of some sort.

"Discover the monsters of our time! On exhibition from Monday to Friday in Town. Don't miss it!!" he was saying, his voice booming over the bobbing heads. Harry approached, walking through the crowd to get closer.

"They're UGLY! They're BIG! Enough to frighten your friends and make their hair stand on ends!"

"What are they? What are they?" squeaked a small First Year, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

The man bent down and before he said anything, he let the crowd silence in anticipation. "Werewolves!" There were cries of glee and smiles on the children's faces. Harry had his insides freezing by now. "And Half-Giants!"

Harry found it impossible to witness the scene any more. "YOU'RE THE MONSTERS!" he yelled in a burst of anger. All stopped talking to stare at Harry with dread. "What difference is there between you, and any Werewolf! I know a Werewolf myself! He's been the best teacher I've ever had! And I've had a Half-Giant that has been a parent to me more than anyone else! You're the monsters." His eyes were flashing green with rage as he said this.

"Did you hear what he said?- Defending Giants- he's crazy- Isn't that Harry Potter?" A cloud of whispers erupted, accompanied with side-glances and sniggers. Laughter soon followed. "Potter is a Giant Lover! Potter is a Giant Lover!"

"I have a cousin who's hairier than any Werewolf, do you think Potter would fancy her?"

Clenching his teeth, he left the crowd for more quiet streets. He could have hexed them all if he'd really had the will. What New World was he living in? Ron's parents dead, his best friend had turned out to be a pureblood lover. Circuses were displaying Werewolves and Half-Giants as animals; atrocities to come see and have a good laugh about! Harry dreaded what he'd discovered next.

But what worried him most was the little information that he'd got out of Ron. His own father, a Death Eater? How could it be possible? Was his mother one too? Mudbloods had been captured and were now going to have their souls sucked out by Dementors. And if Hermione was one of them?

He quickly made his way towards the Hogsmeade Train Station, hands in his cloak pockets, shooting in the leaves, making them fly wherever he passed. But something else made him stop in his tracks. A large dog was scurrying about. A large _black_ dog. It couldn't be... Harry started following it discreetly, looking out for anyone else.

It would walk in the shadows of the night, not daring once to pass under the bright lights that were cast by lamps that hung from the houses, which would creek and waver with the wind. He soon discovered more moving shadows, if his eyes didn't trick him.

A disturbing fourth chapter. Ready to know the rest?


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